


Torn

by notourmoniker (notyourmoniker)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourmoniker/pseuds/notourmoniker
Summary: Since taking Jekyll's serum Regina has been cold and distant, almost another person. But when Snow White encounters her darker half she thinks she understands why, only to find that this Evil Queen is just as unfamiliar and the things she wants equally unexpected.
Relationships: "Hyde" Evil Queen/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	Torn

Snow remembered how easily the needle had slipped beneath Regina’s skin, the way the syringe emptied as she applied the slightest of pressure, and the rush in her chest when the serum took effect. 

A mirror image cracked and shattered as soon as it appeared. 

And finally, they were free of the past. 

The change was immediate. With the remains of a heart that looked too much like her own still dusting her hands, Regina smiled. She wore a look of such open relief that a tension Snow hadn’t realized she was still carrying fell away. 

She remembered the feeling of that moment and the way it rippled outwards. 

Regina was suddenly more relaxed, sure of herself in a way Snow had never seen. Her transformation was evident in the way she spoke to the way she carried herself. She was a different person, one free of darkness.

For a while her newfound assurance helped settle things in Storybrooke. There was an atmosphere of calm radiating off her, one that seemed to promise the return of things that had long been lacking from their lives. 

But as much as Snow wanted and hoped that this would finally be their happy ending, she could not shake a growing sense of unease. 

Because as much as David and Emma commended Regina’s change for the better, there was flatness and impassivity to her that Snow did not recognize. 

Then _she_ appeared. 

Manifesting in strange places just to disappear as quickly as she had come, she completely overturned whatever measure of peace Regina had temporarily provided. And in no time at all Storybrooke was stoked to levels of anxiety and panic worthy of her name - The Evil Queen. 

When it was clear that the darkness Regina had sought to banish had taken on its own form, Snow dismissed her private misgivings as premonitions of the mayhem that had descended. 

Even without direct action The Evil Queen terrorized the town. Every small misfortune was suddenly attributed to her malice. Neighbors turned against each other as old alliances were thrown up against the backdrop of their new realm. 

The worried citizens of Storybrooke - ready to riot - gathered en mass at the sheriff’s station, town hall, and mayor’s office demanding to know where she had come from. 

What would be done about the fires she started? The fear she was causing? The damage to their lives? And most importantly, what did she want? 

But they should have known that The Evil Queen wanted the same thing she always had. 

Yet, as Snow White found herself alone in the forest with a quickly condensing cloud of purple smoke, she still felt a tremor of fear settle in her chest. 

“My, my, a realm away and Snow White is still running off to hide among the trees.” 

She stepped closer, lifting her chin and smelling the air with a dramatic scrunch of her nose. 

“No wonder you still smell like forest.”

Snow stepped back, fear rising in her throat. She scanned the woods around her looking for some path of escape, her old instincts flaring as The Evil Queen kept moving slowly towards her. 

“Don’t try and run, dear. It’s been too long and I imagine we’re both tired of the chase.”

Flecks of obsidian and rubies the color of blood - sharp and glistening - were sewn into the silk and leather of The Evil Queen’s dress. She was like a shadow with a thousand burning eyes against the pale browns and greens of the forest walkway. 

This scene was too familiar, already lived out, one she and Regina had worked so hard to move past. Snow’s eyes hardened and halfway into another careful and measured step back, she lowered her foot and stood straight.

“What do you want?”

The Queen hummed as she tapped the tip of her finger against her chin. Then her wrist twisted and the finger - nail painted a deep maroon - was pointing at Snow. 

“I think the better question is what _you_ want walking all alone through the woods, no Charming at your side? Though I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Jaw tightening, Snow shot back;

“I don’t need David to protect me from you.”

But The Evil Queen only smiled - her voice lilting in a way that rang in Snow’s ears like an echo from another time. 

“Oh, dear, I’m not sure _I’m_ the one you need protection from.”

Snow swallowed then, wishing she had brought David. Because this was dangerous.

“Let’s stop playing, Snow. If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it already.”

The notes of malice in her voice made the threat clear. She hadn’t come closer though, and no move had been made to spark the violence that should have already erupted between them. Still, Snow’s body remained rigid.

“You’ve never wanted anything other than to hurt me.”

“And you never wanted anything other than for me to hurt you.”

She took another step forward as she spoke. And though Snow remained where she stood, unwilling to give any ground, she faltered - the words striking a deep and almost forgotten chord. And in that momentary imbalance she let The Evil Queen close enough that their breathing mingled, close enough to see the tops of her dark lashes as her gaze lowered, close enough that they almost touched as The Queen leaned in. Then with a voice too soft, too gentle, for how harsh it had been a moment ago she said;

“I know you want this, Snow.” 

And where the threat in her words before had been clear, the implication in these made Snow’s brow crease - her eyes widening and shifting away, lips tightening into a thin line as something she had never dared speak aloud was given voice.

This was very dangerous. 

And the danger only grew as the The Queen reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers against Snow ’s neck, drifting down to the smooth skin of her chest. 

The touch made her shudder and burn. 

“She knew you wanted it too.” 

That made Snow look up. Her head raised sharply as panic and shame revealed themselves in the lines at the corners of her mouth. The Evil Queen smirked and bent her head so that their cheeks pressed lightly against each other. And so close, her hot breath hitting Snow’s reddening ear, she said, “Knew you wanted her.” 

Then, she pulled away, slow enough that Snow could feel the contours of her face as they moved over her skin. 

The space now between them was charged and heavy, and The Queen’s red lips, full and dark and too often the focus of Snow’s cautious glances, quirked into a smile. “And would you like to know something Snow White?” Snow swallowed, body still rigid and tense “She wanted you too.” 

Those words hit her with a rush of something electric. Snow felt her every nerve light up in warning, not just because this was undoubtedly a trap, but because just the thought of those words being true made her feel something dangerous, something _wanton_. And god help her because it must have shown on her face - a moment of hesitation and a willingness, however brief, to believe - because The Queen’s smile morphed into a smirk as she titled her head to press their lips together. 

The kiss was slow but possessive, so like the way she had imagined Regina kissing her an untold number of times before. So, unable to help herself Snow White kissed back. 

It stayed like that for a moment, easy and almost tender, but then The Evil Queen sucked hard on Snow’s lower lip and slid her tongue into her mouth. Starting at the sudden dominance, Snow tried to pull back as she remembered herself. But as she did, The Queen gripped roughly at her hips and brought their bodies flush against each other. The space between them vanished, and the gems and beadwork on The Queen’s dress pressed into her even through her jacket and sweater. 

This was wrong. It felt too real and unreal all at once, like a dream or a nightmare made manifest. Part of her wanted to think that that’s all it was, another fantasy she’d ignore in the morning and pretend she’d never had. But even as Snow shut her eyes so tight they hurt, she could not ignore the very real way The Queen flicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and smiled into their kiss. 

Grabbing at her forearms, Snow pried them apart - not fully, but enough to end the kiss and help clear her head. As she opened her eyes, she saw only the same dark red smirk. Somehow, her lipstick was unaffected by what they had just done. The Queen seemed unbothered by the space now between them, little as it was. Her hands drifted from Snow’s hips up to her waist and back again. 

Though Snow’s gazed was fixed on The Queen, she watched her own hands move over Snow’s body - growing bolder as moments passed in silence. From her hips to her lower back, to the bottom of her ribcage, each slow touch made Snow’s skin burn with a pain and a longing that stung with old memories and desires - one’s she’d hoped were nearly forgotten. But the sudden ache in her heart, and the much different ache in her lower belly betrayed any belief that she didn’t want Regina just as much she had at seventeen years old. 

Glancing down, she watched the slow caress of The Queen’s hands over her body. Those hands had caused so much agony, so much damage. Yet, they looked identical to hands that had worked so hard to heal old wounds and right past wrongs. It made Snow dizzy even as her head continued to fill with potent and long buried feelings. She had given up on them fulfilled though, and as The Queen’s touch grew more daring, Snow reminded herself that they still weren’t - couldn’t be. Because this was not Regina. 

And Regina, the whole messy, complicated, brave, complete person, would never touch Snow White like this. Because even if she wanted it too, she would know how badly it would break both their hearts.

Gathering her strength she pushed The Queen away, ending their contact. For good measure she took another few steps backward. But it felt more like retreat than it did a statement of boundaries. 

“I can’t, I don’t-” Snow said, voice on the edge of breaking. 

The Queen narrowed her eyes, a laugh playing in the back of her throat but never quite passing her lips. She took a step forward. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, Snow.”

With an upwards jerk of her chin, Snow held her ground. And though her eyes were wet and reddening, her gaze was steady. 

“I don’t want you. You’re not her.”

The Queen did laugh then, and any pretense of keeping the distance them vanished as she stepped forward once more.

“Aren’t I? Aren’t these her hands?” She said, reaching out to cup Snow’s face. 

Swallowing, Snow did not pull away. 

“Isn’t this her voice?” She whispered, leaning closer, making Snow’s eyes heavy at the sound. “Her lips?” And as she kissed a line from Snow’s ear to her cheek, stopping at the corner of her mouth Snow felt her strength waver as she sighed, 

“Yes.”

“Then let me give you what you want Snow. Because she doesn’t want you.”

And suddenly they were talking about a different Regina.

Snow’s attention snapped back to focus. Her eyes narrowed even as she did her best to ignore the tightness in her chest and heat pulsing through her body. It was better that way. Safer. 

So, Snow clung to those words, because whether she’d meant it or not they gave her a foothold - still on unstable ground, but at least not in the direction that would lead her to giving into a long repressed want. 

“I thought you said she did want me.”

It was probably too obvious an attempt to regain a little control and upset the dynamic The Queen had been setting for them since she appeared. But sure enough, Snow saw the vein in her forehead pulse even as she flashed another dark smile. 

“ _Regina_ did, does still probably. After all, here _I_ am, so she must.”

She stepped forward then, eyes fixed on Snow, watching to see how that would affect her. And _god_ …it did affect her. For a moment she was almost pulled right back in - leaning forward and desperate, reaching out to touch the woman before her lest she lose the opportunity forever. 

Instead, Snow jerked quickly away. Clenching her hands at her sides, she tried to keep the rapid beating in her chest tuned to The Queen’s threats instead of her promises - though little difference seemed to exist between them.

“What are you saying?”

The Queen rolled her eyes.

“Are you still so insipidly naive, Snow? That you really don’t know what I mean? _Who_ I mean?

She was getting frustrated, angry. Snow could see her eyes darkening, her playful smirk dropping into a look of impatient annoyance. Instinctively, Snow’s gaze shifted to her wrist, looking for the distinctive flick that would summon magic and fire. 

It was familiar though, getting under her nerves like this, igniting her fury without really intending to. And right now Snow wasn’t sure that she didn’t prefer a fireball to the other kind of heat that still hung tense between them.

But although seeing The Evil’s Queen’s anger spark should have given Snow a sense of control over this interaction, she felt a spike of anxiety at what had been said. Suddenly, the reason she had gone for this walk pushed itself to the forefront of her mind. It hung there like loose threads waiting to be woven together. There was both the image of Regina calm and composed, no flare of ardor behind her words or lingering in her eyes, and the image of her darker self, tempestuous but still somehow different than The Evil Queen who had hunted Snow White in The Enchanted Forest. 

But before she could reason through the connection, The Queen’s impatience reached a head, and she said;

“She can’t love you.”

And this made Snow falter - the threads breaking off and drifting apart before she could finish tying them - because _love_ was not a word she had used. 

_Maybe_ she had thought it before, in dark moments of self-loathing and personal revelation. _Maybe_ she had uttered it in private as a young women giddy with the realization that the feelings she had for her step-mother, although improper, had a name. _Maybe_ some part of her secreted away and buried under hurt, and trauma, and lost hope still used that word, wished for it. But it was _never_ one Regina had used, even now after so much.

“Love me?”

Her voice came out strong despite the wetness gathering in the corners of her eyes and the tightness in her throat. But that vulnerability was masked by clear notes of indignation and outrage.

The Queen sneered, amusement pulling at the corners of her eyes. 

“Oh no, dear. She certainly wouldn’t love you before, and now…well now she couldn’t even if she wanted to.”

Snow felt a rush of cold go through her, and again the threads started to join together. Grasping at them, she tried to pull the picture together, to pull herself toward understanding and away from the the thought that Regina might want her, might have _loved_ her, because that was too overwhelming, too painful, too much of everything all at once. 

“What do you mean?”

“She can’t love.” The Queen bit out, but the amusement was still on her face as she watched Snow across the small space between them.

And Snow bit back;

“She loves Henry.”

She spoke the words quickly, knowing that The Queen wouldn’t dare deny it. Whatever version of Regina existed Snow could not believe she was any less Henry’s mother. 

But The Queen’s face twisted into a look of wild protectiveness, and Snow adjusted her stance in case her wrist twisted with it and the strong force of magic pushed her away. 

No magic came though. 

Instead, The Queen’s face softened, pain making her eyes tender and lighten to the soft brown that Snow recognized in Regina’s eyes.

“He’s our son, but she can’t love him. She might care for him, feel a duty to him, just as she holds onto some misguided obligation to you. But just because we share a heart doesn’t mean we both feel it.”

At the frustration and _feeling_ in her voice, Snow’s breath caught in her throat. Because since New York Regina had been cold and distant, almost another person. The intensity behind her dark eyes had dimmed and her usual fire was subdued - taken over by a reason and efficiency that usually accompanied ferocity and passion but on their own were foreign and unsettling. 

But _here_ , under the dark dress and the elaborately coiffed hair was the woman who loved and fought for her son at every turn, the woman who felt and wanted, the woman who was as easily provoked to anger as heartache.

Snow realized then that she would never have Regina’s love without her hatred too. 

And though her heart had already been split, this was enough to break it all over again. 

She had hoped that separating Regina from her darker side would bring them closer, would cement their tentative friendship, and help heal old wounds. But Regina’s darkness had always come from a place of great pain. To separate her from her that darkness had been the very same as ripping out her aching heart, even as the best parts of her were ripped out as well. 

It had been reason that had protected Regina from the volatility of her own heart, turning anguish to anger to hate. Of course she would fear those parts of herself - see them as vulnerable to the darkness. Though they were her strength, shining and sure, Snow knew that even now Regina doubted her ability to love, to be good, to trust her herself as Snow did. So the serum had worked, done what it was meant to and removed the parts of Regina she most deeply feared - the parts of her that had hurt and given way to darkness only to hurt more deeply in return. And now this woman who looked like every vision of Snow’s secreted desires was offering her what she wanted even though it was empty of all the things Snow really wanted from it. 

Suddenly angry, Snow felt a rush of heat behind her forehead. Stepping fast towards The Evil Queen she pushed her back, _hard_. The dark gems in her dress quivered as her body met the bark of nearby tree with a heavy thud. 

Before she could right herself, push back against the abrupt show of strength, Snow was pressed against her, fists grasping tightly at her shoulders. 

And for a horrible instant The Queen let her, watched and waited to see what choice Snow White would make. Her eyes dark and lips parted in wanting. 

So, with just as much determination as she’d used to push The Queen against the tree Snow leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t like their earlier kiss - tender and growing rougher. It was breathless as Snow bit and sucked and forced her tongue into The Queen’s mouth. 

And The Queen allowed it - melted into the kiss as hard and clumsy and desperate as it was. There was no fight in her submission or subtle play to seize control. 

She let Snow lead and didn’t try to take more than she could give. So, as the kiss went on, it became something languid and full of feeling as Snow imagined Regina in her place.

Eyes closed she pictured her, whole and beautiful - kissing her, holding her, their hearts thumping in time as their bodies pressed together. She imagined that it was Regina making the coil of heat in her lower belly tight and the place between her legs hot and wet. She tried to convince herself that it was Regina’s hands, finally healed of blood and fire, holding lightly to her hips and working their way up between them. 

But as a hand grazed the bottom of her ribcage pausing beneath her breast, Snow pulled back breathing heavy.

Looking at the woman in front of her, the fantasy fell away. Only The Queen remained. Her eyes and fingertips sparked with anger and heat, and Snow didn’t know then if she would rip her heart from her chest and finally end this, or if she would reach lower and prolong the pain. 

Another wave of reluctance washed over her, and her grip on The Queen’s shoulders loosened. This time though she took fast advantage of it, spinning them so Snow was pushed against the tree, palms pressed flat against the coarse bark. 

Fitting tight behind her, The Queen leaned in and whispered in her ear;

“Go ahead, Snow. Pretend all you want.”

But before Snow could respond, The Queen licked along the smooth column of her neck, one handing sliding up to palm her breast while the other slipped beneath the material of Snow’s sweater to stroke her hips and stomach. 

There was no reluctance in _her_ touch. 

Gasping at the feeling, Snow grabbed The Queen’s hand from its place on her chest. Gripping it hard enough to leave the crescent shapes of her nails imprinted in her skin, Snow twisted around. With her back now against the tree she pulled The Queen to her, mouths meeting in a pressing kiss. And even without having to imagine it, she still felt like Regina - like the run of her tongue against Snow’s bottom lip, like her body under Snow’s touch, like her voice moaning as Snow dropped her head to suck her collar bone.

It made Snow’s skin tingle and light with heat and want.

Even as The Queen’s nails scratched a little too hard - leaving hot red lines in their wake. Even as she bit too sharply at the place just below Snow’s ear - sure to leave a bright purple bruise behind. Even as more hate and anger and desire to hurt worked their way into her touch. Even as the differences made it plain that this was not the woman Snow wished she was - 

Snow’s legs quivered and she knew she’d passed the point of stopping. The Queen might strike her now or burn her where she stood, but unless she vanished in a puff of purple smoke Snow White would reach for her - no matter the pain that might come. 

Because it was still Regina’s name running through her mind. 

At a sudden and rough tug at her hips, Snow wrapped her arms around The Queen’s neck. As she did, their hips pressed flush together before a firm leg slid between her thighs. The sudden purchase made Snow cant forward and roll her body against the new contact. 

Moaning softly, The Queen kissed her again. Her hands though, continued to pull at her jacket and sweater. The cool forest air nipped at Snow’s skin in the places where The Queen moved her clothes aside. But even then, her touch was warm, almost scalding, as her hands worked their way again to the curve of Snow’s breasts, squeezing lightly. 

All the while her thigh moved in an easy rhythm between Snow’s legs.

But as the pressure built, grinding harder and faster, the leg pulled back. Nearly whimpering at the loss of contact, Snow felt an abrupt chill at the apex of her thighs where a damp spot was soaking through her jeans. 

Dropping her arms to rest at either side of The Queen’s neck - framed by black and red sparkling jewels - she tried to pull her closer and resume the contact. Instead there was, even through the soft material of her bra, a sharp pinch to her nipples. The Queen smirked, her pupils dark and wide. 

Then she leaned in, but instead of a kiss she caught Snow’s lower lip between her teeth. Pulling on it, she slipped a hand out from under the sweater, letting it drift lower and lower until it dipped below the waistband of Snow’s jeans and the cotton fabric of her underwear. Snow could feel herself, wet and hot and quivering with need.

So as The Queen circled once around her clit with the tip of her finger, letting Snow’s lip free from between her teeth as she did, Snow sighed and dropped her head forward. And as the finger pushed inside just _there_ , Snow’s head rose back up as she made a sound so shameless it caused a flash of embarrassment as she heard it. 

But the embarrassment was only an instant, because The Queen was pushing another finger in, drawing out more moans and breathy sighs with each curve of her fingers and thrust of her hand. 

Her touch was rough and insistent - like she was trying to press into Snow’s body and crush her from within. 

And when Snow came in her hand, clenching in tight spasms, her voice pitching among the gentle din of the forest walkway, The Queen looked at so distinctly - a face Snow had never seen on any version of Regina before. There was victory in it, satisfaction. It was a sneer and a smile. Her dark eyes fixed on Snow as she watched her breathing steady and the flushed skin of her chest fade back to pale white. 

Snow swallowed as she saw it, a tremor of anxiety pulsing through her as she started to reconcile with what they had done, at the potential ammunition she had just given her enemy. She knew that too much had been exposed and given into, all while too much still remained hidden and tentative. 

And in that moment - though The Queen’s words had been filled with all the feeling Regina lacked, though her hands had burned though not with fire and magic, though there was a wonder on her face mixed in with everything else Snow saw there - Snow could not be sure if there was meaning, any meaning, in what had just happened between them, or if it was just the fuse for some greater vengeance even now lit and sparking between them…

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be a complete story in and of itself even though the concept could be expanded upon. If there's interest I may write an epilogue, but otherwise I don't intend to build on this premise more than what's already here. 
> 
> Comments and reviews are welcome and appreciated. If you do have interest in an epilogue please let me know.


End file.
